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ONE SUMMER 


BT 

KATE WELDON BROWN 

• i 


Frontispiece by E. H. KILLAM 



BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO. 

835 Bboadwat, New York 
1913 


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CopTnioHT. 1913, 

BT 

KATE WELDON BROWN 




©CI.A347769 


ONE SUMMER 


A LOVE STORY FOE CHILDREN. 


“ And yet, I have not all forgot 
The years, when every day seemed long, 
A separate age of joys and play, 

Of wonder tales and song” 


CHAPTER I. 

GETTING ACQUAINTED. 

They sat on the rocks, the little girl whose home it 
was, this lonely seashore, and the little boy with short 
yellow curls, from the Great Inland city. They sat on 
the rocks, but mind they did not sit together. No, in- 
deed! It was not because the little boy was better 
dressed than the little girl — for true childhood cares 
little about such matters, and besides the patched ging- 
ham of the girPs was as clean as the starched blouse of 
the boy’s. Then why was it? The truth is that they 
were not acquainted, but, oh, how they wished they 
were. 

The tide was going out. It was the boy’s first glimpse 
of the ebb tide of the wonderful Bay of Fundy, and he 
was very much interested, so interested indeed that he 
wished that someone might tell him about the strange 
things that it brought into view, or made plainer. The 
greenish brown stuff, clinging about the rocks, what was 
that, and the long line of rocks running out from the 
5 


6 


ONE SUMMER 


shore, and the funny little thing like a tower at the 
end of it, and the house built right on the water, how 
could it stand, and did anyone live there? — and who 
lived on the little Island away off there? Oh, so many 
questions to ask and no one to answer ! Then there was 
the white mist that seemed to hang in the air beyond 
the little Island. Oh, dear, why wasnT there someone 
to tell him about it? 

There was the little girl of course, but she wouldn’t 
look at him at all, and simply stared across the water 
in a very unfriendly way. He would try and make her 
turn, but how? Perhaps she would like to look through 
his field-glasses ! He whistled. There was a faint move- 
ment of the little figure on the other rock. “ Hello, do 
you want to look through my field-glasses?” The red 
sunbonnet turned quickly and the boy’s blue eyes stared 
at the brown face and dark eyes raised to his. I believe 
it’s a gjpsy,” he said to himself. Then all at once her 
lips parted in a sunshiny smile, and the boy burst out 
laughing, at which her head went down so low that once 
again there was nothing to be seen but a red sunbonnet. 

Now the boy from the Great Inland city was not 
very shy and rather a tease, so he began, I say what’s 
your name little gypsy ? ” Quick as a flash the dark eyes 
raised again, stormy eyns now and the smile all gone, 

I ain’t a gypsy, I’m Pansy.” 

Oh, a pansy are you ? — W^iy you look more like a 
poppy or — or,” — for her eyes were simply blazing, “ a 
thundercloud.” 

“I hate you, you horrid boy, and I don’t want to 
wear your silly, ugly glasses,” — it was plain she thought 
they were a kind of spectacles, but her voice broke here. 
She had wondered about them and had wanted to see 
through them, oh, so much, and now she never, never 
could. It was her own fault too. This last thought 
only made her more angry. Take that, and that, and 
that,” and before the boy could get away, handfuls of 


ONE SUMMER 


7 

sand and pebbles were dashed about his face and head; 
then without more ado the red sunbounet turned, and 
a pair of fleet little legs darted around the corner of 
the rocks and out of sight, while a crestfallen boy stood 
alone rubbing his stinging face. But he told himself 
that he had deserved it all and that when next the little 
girl came out on the rocks, if she ever did come — ^he 
would be more polite, and — here he rubbed his tingling 
face again — he hoped she would, too. He wanted to 
know her. She was pretty he thought, brown, but very 
pretty. Perhaps it was the seashore, he didn’t remem- 
ber of ever seeing anyone so pretty in the Great Inland 
city. 

The tide was all out now, and still the little boy sat on 
the rocks. He had found out about one thing — with the 
ebb of the tide — the house on the water ! It was really 
built on rocks and there was a dark reef of them into the 
shore ; but the mysteries were as many as ever for out in 
the water was something he had not noticed until low 
tide, long lines of poles sticking up. Dear, oh, dear, if 
he had only been more polite ! What could those sticks 
be? and then the white mist had gone as if by magic, 
and as far in the distance as could be seen was a long 
broken line of blue. It certainly wasn’t the horizon, 
he knew about that, — perhaps it was another seashore! 

Suddenly a flaring red sunbonnet darted by him. The 
next minute a gust of wind came and the bright bit of 
calico whirled over the sand until it found a resting place 
on a mass of wet, brown seaweed. The boy looked at 
the girl but saw only a cloud of dusky hair blowing 
merrily in the breezes, as though glad to be let out of 
its prison. It was his chance to be polite again, a few 
jumps up and down the rocks, a few quick runs over 
the damp sand, and the boy was carrying a wilted sun- 
bonnet toward a little girl who was waiting ydth pouted 
lips, but eyes that showed a laugh was not far behind. 
He held it out happily, here Gyp — Pansy,” she 


8 


ONE SUMMER 


frowned, then, for -childhood is very forgiving, and it 
was clearly a mistake, she smiled, a bright, warm smile 
that lighted up the small, brown face, and brought an 
answering one from the boy, then together they sat 
down on the rocks. 


ACQUAINTED. 

They were -very happy now and the little tongues ran 
on joyfully. She was a great girl, thought the boy. 
She had explained so many things to him. The strange, 
white mist was the fog, he would likely see it very often, 
sometimes it stayed out on the water and sometimes it 
came on the land. The boy hoped it would mostly stay 
on the water. The poles that were sticking up in the 
water were the fisherman’s weirs, along them, fish nets 
were strung and at the foot of them was the "pond” 
where when the tide went out many fish lay dead — shad, 
and salmon and gaspereau. The little girl told him that 
she was to have gaspereau for tea that very night — the 
"blue-backs” the last catch of the season. The boy 
wished he were too. Then she told him about the house 
on the rock which at high tide seemed built on the water ; 
that was the beacon light to guide the ships. The long 
rough line of rocks was the breakwater to make the 
harbor safe. She told him all about it, and that the 
tower-like place at the end was the lighthouse, only 
fishermen lived on the little Island, and out on it too 
was a fog-horn which in bad weather blew out fog over 
the sea and land. This the little boy thought very 
strange and did not understand at all. What good was 
the fog and how did a fog-horn make it! Really he 
hardly believed it, but he did not like to say so, for the 
little girl was quite sure of what she said. — She knew 
that the fog always canie when the fog-horn blew. 

Then she told him about the greenish-brown stuff. It 
was seaweed, and she pointed out to reefs which she 


ONE SUMMER 


9 


called dulse reefs, and said that some day they would 
wade out for dulse. When the boy looked puzzled she 
laughed with her head very high up, which he didn^t 
like at all, and said that dulse was a seaweed. 
“ Humph ” thought the boy, “ what was dulse along- 
side of some curiosities he had seen — a little seashore 
seaweed ! Pouf ! ” but he didn’t say a word, only looked 
a little dignified while she explained more about it, 
that it was of a reddish-brown color and was good to 
eat when dried. This sounded so interesting that he 
quite forgot his dignity, and said he wished he had 
some. 

When he pointed out to her the blue line so far away 
she frowned, then told him that that line was the Nova 
Scotia shore and when it showed so plainly it was sure 
to storm soon. She didn’t seem to know why, but 
thought it was just for a sign to let people know. 

But the sun was very low, it must be tea time — they 
had forgotten all about time in their chatter. “ ‘ Jim- 
iny,’ Pansy, it’s late, good-bye.” * 

Good-bye, oh, dear, but what’s your name ? ” She 
had never thought about his name before. 

^‘IPs Paul, Pll be back to-morrow.” She looked 
at the Nova Scotia sign but said nothing, so waving 
his hand to her, little Paul ran home to the white, 
summer cottage up from the beach, to tell his mother 
all about his new friend, the ebb tide, and the strange, 
strange things of the seashore. 


IQ ONE SUMMER 


CHAPTER II. 

THE LONG, WHITE ARMS. 

The Nova Scotia sign hadn’t come quite true. It 
was a windy, half-cloudy, half-sunny day on the sea- 
shore, and a turbulent day on the waters. Long, white 
arms of foam stretched themselves over the brown sands 
and curved in and out among the rocks and seaweeds; 
and the boy with the golden curls, and the girl with'the 
red sunbonnet, sat on the rocks again, but very close 
together now, and watched the restless play of the 
waves. 

Suddenly a big wave struck the rock beneath them 
just where a yellow sunbeam lingered — a perfect whirl 
of foam and spray, a flash of gold, and it was gone, but 
the little girl was standing up, her dark eyes dancing 
with deliglit. Did you see it, Paul, oh, did you see 
it?” The boy’s eyes sparkled, ‘^yes, the wave, it was 
great.” ^^No, no, don’t you know what it was?” 
“Why, of course, I do, it was a wave breaking.” His 
tone was scornful. Did this seashore Pansy think he 
didn’t know anything ! “ No,” and the small brown 

fingers grasped his sleeve as she whispered mysteriously, 
“it was a mermaid!” The blue eyes opened wide, “a 
what ? ” “ Why, a mermaid. Haven’t you heard about 
them? they live under the water and their hair is gold 
like yours. I wish mine was,” and she looked longingly 
at the yellow head beside her, “ and they always dress 
in white. It is all true because ” — she bent again and 
every word was slow and clear, “ once I went under the 
sea with a mermaid and I know” 


ONE SUMMER 


II 


The little boy’s mouth was wide open, but he didn’t 
say a word, he was thinking, not doubting, oh, no, why 
should he ! He had been at a great many strange places, 
had spent two whole summers on the mountains, had 
seen wonderful buildings and wonderful sights, but to 
have been on a journey under the sea! No, he had 
never known anything quite so wonderful as that. 
Truly it was a great thing to live on the seashore and 
to be known by the mermaids. 

The little girl took her seat beside him again. 
“ Now I’m going to tell you a wee little bit about it, 
and you’ll believe it, won’t you?” 

The boy bowed his head and she began “once upon 
a time ” 

“ How long ago ? ” 

“Well, it was only last summer but I like to begin 
a story that way, and anyway you mustn’t ask ques- 
tions. Now I’ll have to begin all over again. Once 
upon a time, last summer, it was an awful hot, hot day 
and I came down here on the rocks, but they were hot 
and the sand was hot, so I paddled in the water for a 
while. Bye and bye I saw a nice, cool, little cubby-hole 
in the rocks, and I ran in and lay down there. I 
wasn’t afraid to lie there because the tide was going out, 
but if it had been coming in I would have been drowned, 
and every minute a big, big wave would come and I 
wished that I could be a mermaid and go down under 
the cold water, and just while I was thinking about it 
the biggest wave of all came, there was a tremendous 
splash, Paul, and the lovely soap-suddy spray flew right 
into my face. It was just going back, you know, the 
wave, when guess what ? ” and the very mysterious tone 
came again. “Why, a little mermaid laughed out at 
me, a real mermaid, Paul, she was just about as big 
as me, but her hair was so gold and so long I I wasn’t 
one bit afraid of her, and when I laughed she laughed 
again and stretched out her long, white arms — mer- 


12 


ONE SUMMER 


maids always have long, white arms, grandma says, and 
asked me to go to her home under the water/^ 

The boy had drawn nearer and his voice was almost 
a whisper with excitement, “ Did you go ? ” 

“ Hush ! yes, I went, she took my hand, and just 
think, I stepped into the water and didn’t sink, for 
mind, my feet were gone and I looked just like a mer- 
maid.” 

Oh-o-oh ! weren’t you ’fraid ? ” 

" No, I was glad ’cause I would have been drowned 
with feet, but you mustn’t talk. We swam out a long, 
long way, almost out to the beacon light, then down we 
went just like fishes, and now I’m not going to tell you 
any more about it, ’cause it’s something like grandma’s 
story, and she said she would tell it to you, she often 
tells it to me.” 

Oh, Pansy, please tell me the rest,” pleaded Paul. 

No, no, I won’t, only a little speck more ” — and she 
almost whispered it, “ I was with the mermaid all 
night.” 

0-o-oh ! and what did your grandma say when you 
told her?” 

“ She said she had often played with the mermaids 
when she was a little girl like me, and to play with 
them as long as I could, for when I got big like her I 
wouldn’t have many chances, for the mermaids loved 
only children. And that’s all my story. Grandma says 
you are to come to our house to-morrow, and she will 
tell you the story about the Earth-child who went to 
the mermaid. It’s a dreadful sad story ! ” 


PNE SUMMER 


13 


CHAPTER III. 

THE TUMBLEDOWN’ COTTAGE AND A STORY. 

Out of the reach of the tide it stood. Such a tiny 
house ! — so gray, so weather-beaten, so fog-discolored ; 
behind it a green bank where a scrawny ominous-look- 
ing orchard toppled over. At its sides, and almost hem- 
ming it in, so closely did it nestle to their dull walls, 
the dark cliffs, and in front the great stretch of brown 
seashore. It looked very desolate to-day for the clouds 
were heavy, and over the restless waters and reaching 
into the land hung the white mist. 

When the little boy came to the edge of the cliff he 
peeked around it, and stood still, and as he ran his 
fingers through his damp curls he wondered what to do. 
He was quite sure it was the right house for everything 
was exactly as Pansy had said it was, but he felt a little 
shy about going to the door, on this, his first visit. 
He was just drawing his head back when suddenly the 
door opened. Certainly someone had been watching 
and had seen the yellow head thrust itself around the 
edge of the cliff. “ Come Paul ” — he felt a little 
ashamed that he had not gone on in the first place, but 
pushing his cap back and straightening himself up he 
walked stoutly forward, toward the old lady who stood 
in the doorway smilingly, while in the background laugh- 
ing merrily stood Pansy. 

If the outside of the house was dull the little living- 
room was not. Bright, warm rugs lay on the white 
floor, and on the broad casement of the low window that 
looked straight over the water, were pots of geraniums 


14 


ONE SUMMER 


and fuchias, in full bloom. At the further end of the 
room stood a cosy tea table, and near by shelves of shin- 
ing blue and white china, but as Paul afterward told 
his mother, next to the best of all was the fireplace, a 
really old-fashioned fireplace, mamma, with a crane 
hanging and a brick oven; but the very best of all was 
the grandmother — she was a grandmother like you read 
about, and she took off my jacket and dried it, and 
kissed me, and told us a lovely story, and sometimes 
she bakes in the brick oven, mamma.” 

When the grandmother had thrown an armful of 
drift wood on the fire and it had blazed up cheerfully, 
she drew three broad, low chairs close to the hearth, and 
taking off her spectacles, without more ado began the 
mermaid story. 

** Once upon a time there was a little earth-child 
with golden hair,” and Pansy sighed as she always 
sighed at this and drew down one black lock to gaze at, 
while Paul, almost unconsciously raised his yellow head. 
" and day after day, and day after day he played on 
the seashore, a lonely seashore just like ours. When 
there was no wind and the sea was very still he would 
lie on the sand and build houses and fence them in, and 
graveyards with white pebbles and shells for gravestones, 
and sometimes he would make wharves of the drift 
wood ; but on other days — the days he liked best — when 
the wind blew ” 

Hurricanes,” interrupted Pansy, who was very proud 
of her knowledge of the long words. 

Hurricanes, and caught the spray and blew it over 
his face, and the waves would break on the cliffs ” 

“ Ominous cliffs, grandmother ! ” 

Yes, on the ominous cliffs, and great white arms 
would wind in and out among the rocks and seaweeds — 
on these days the Earth-child would sit on the rocks, 
with his yellow curls blowing about his face, and watch 
for the little mermaiden who often peeped out at him 


ONE SUMMER 


15 


and laughed, and sometimes she would call to him in 
such a little singey voice that it sounded just like a 
light wind, and sometimes too she would stretch out her 
long, white arms to him, and the little Earth-child very 
much wanted to go, but whenever he would start a big 
wave would come and take her away. 

One day when the sun was high and hot he threw 
himself down between two rocks where the foam would 
splash in his face and where he could see the mermaiden 
if she came. He was beginning to grow very sleepy 
when all at once a big wave splashed on the rocks and 
out of the spray rose the beautiful sea-child, her hair 
was golden like the Earth-child’s, her eyes were deep- 
blue like the water,” again Pansy sighed, and Paul 
laughed, brown and green seaweed floated about her, 
and around her neck and waist hung strings of pearls 
and rose-pink shells. Wouldn’t you love to have seen 
her, children?” — and both heads nodded. "Well, the 
little Earth-child laughed aloud, he had never seen her 
so close, and while he laughed he heard the little voice 
like the light wind again, and it was asking him to go 
with her under the sea. Now that was just where he 
wanted to go, so he rose up, and took the tiny white 
hand stretched out to him, and together they stepped 
into the water. The Earth-child was very much sur- 
prised that he did not sink,” " just like me,” murmured 
Pansy, " but when he looked down he saw that he was 
of the same shape as the mermaid; and in a minute 
more they were swimming like fishes, down, down, 
down, and oh, what lovely things he saw ! some of them 
too strange to tell about. 

" At last they came to a beautiful grove of red and 
white coral, where hundreds and hundreds of tiny 
mermaids played * hide and seek ’ and ‘ tag ’ among the 
branches in quite the same way as the Earth-children 
play, and darting in and out among them were the 
prettiest coloured fishes ! It was a wonderful sight 
and the Earth-child was very happy. 


i6 


ONE SUMMER 


“ But the mermaid did not stop long here. Still hold- 
ing his hand they swam on and on until they came to 
the most beautiful house made of a monstrous pearl, 
pure white, and in this lovely house lived the Queen 
of the Mermaids, — They called her ” — “ I know, I know, 
the Queen of the Nimps,” broke in Pansy, “ Yes, the 
Queen of the Nymphs. She was very glad to see the 
golden-haired child from earth, and was so kind to 
him ! He was hungry after his long journey so she 
made him sit at a pink coral table, and gave him his 
supper out of tiny white shells. After he had eaten 
enough, she sent him to play in her garden, and he 
strung string after string of pearls and beautiful sea- 
weed around his neck and arms, and once a passing 
mermaid flung a wreath of them over his golden head, 
and swam off laughing. 

There were some terrible and ” — “ ferocious,” said 
Pansy, yes, ferocious-looking creatures down there, too, 
and sometimes the little Earth-child, who had been used 
to only dogs and cats, would scream for fear, but the 
mermaid told him he must not be frightened, and bye 
and bye he got so used to them that he didn’t mind 
them, at all, and before long he was playing hide and 
seek in the coral groves with the other sea-children. 

" But at last night came and it grew too dark for the 
merry games, so the mermaiden came to him and led 
him to his bed, a great, white shell, lined with the 
softest seaweed and bordered with pearls. It was a 
very cool and pleasant bed and the boy sank into it with 
a happy sigh. Soon music commenced, perhaps it had 
been going on all the time but he had not noticed it 
before. It was not at all like the music in the world he 
had come from, for it was the noise of the little waves 
splashing against his shell bed. It was very soft and 
sweet and soon he was fast asleep — when a bad dream 
came — ^he dreamed that someone was throwing pearls 
all over him, and he was so frightened that he rose from 


ONE SUMMER 


17 

his bed and screamed, then swam out of the home of 
the mermaids and up to the seashore where, when he 
opened his eyes, the wind was blowing grains of sand ia 
his face. 

‘‘ The Earth-child was so sorry about the dream that 
had come just when he was having such a good time, 
and he made up his mind that he would watch for the 
mermaid again. He would slip back again that very 
night, when he was supposed to be in bed, and he felt 
quite sure that she would come and stretch out her long, 
white arms to him. So that evening just at twilight the 
little Earth-child in his white nightgown sat on the 
rocks, and the wind blew his golden curls about his 
face just as it had before. 

“ Again a big wave broke on the rocks at his feet, and 
two long, white arms stretched out to him. He stood 
up quickly and laughed, for he thought of the hide and 
seek in the coral groves with the sea-children; of the 
fishes, the seaweed, the pearls, and the music; thenn 
stretching out his little arms to the long, white ones, he 
jumped from the rock — but something dreadful hap- 
pened,” “ I know, I know,” sobbed Pansy, the bungle- 
some seaweed.” Yes, his tiny feet got all tangled up 
in the bunglesome seaweed, so he could not swim, and 
the careless mermaid left him, and next morning when 
the tide had gone out they found the little Earth-child 
dead on the seashore. 

“ So children when you sit on the rocks and the mer- 
maid comes and holds out her long, white arms to you, 
and even whispers to you to come, run away from her, 
for the Earth-children are not like the sea-children, 
and when they try to go to her, almost always their 
feet catch in the bunglesome seaweed.” 

Yes, it was a very sad ending the boy thought, and 
when Pansy smiled at him through her fast-drying 
tears, — he never even looked at her. As a matter of 
fact there was a tear in his eye, which being proud, 


i8 


ONE SUMMER 


and a boy besides be was highly ashamed of, and how to 
rub it out quietly he didn't know. It felt so big that 
it was nearly blinding him and he felt too that it was 
about to drop, and in his own mind he would be dis- 
graced forever. It was now or never, so leaning back he 
yawned and rubbed his eyes, then said to please excuse 
him and blushed a little ; but anyway the tear was gone 
and nobody knew, so he felt better even though a little 
guilty. 

Well, they sat around the fire a little longer, and the 
grandmother brought in a lunch of lovely gingerbread 
and milk, then, for the sky looked very lowering, Paul 
said he had had a very bang-up time, and putting on 
his jacket, bade good-bye and ran home as fast as his 
legs would carry him. 


ONE SUMMER 


19 


CHAPTER IV. 

The Daisy Petal Fairies. 

There had been almost a week of rain and heavy 
fog and to-day Paul was very much discouraged. If it 
had not been for Pansy he would almost wish himself 
back in the Great Inland city again. Why, he hadn’t 
seen the light-house or the Island for a week, yes, a 
whole week, for here it was Thursday, and almost three 
o’clock, and the Thursday before was the last time he 
had seen Pansy. It was very late in the summer, too, 
and he couldn’t waste whole weeks. He was sure he 
didn’t see what good the Nova Scotia sign was when you 
couldn’t see any farther than your own shore, and any- 
way how did you know whether it was there or not? 
He was just tired of hearing that hateful fog-horn that 
had never stopped blowing out fog all this time. Why 
didn’t someone stop it up? It must hold an awful lot. 
Oh, dear, the seashore wasn’t half as nice as he had 
thought it was, and altogether the boy’s temper was as 
unreasonable as the weather. 

At about this very time, a little girl bareheaded, her 
apron full of bullseye daisies, stood on the green bank 
back of the tumbledown cottage, picking the petals 
from a scrawny end-of-the-summer daisy. “ Rich man, 
poor man, beggar man, thief, doctor, lawyer, Indian 
chief. Rich man, poor man ” — and so on. Rich 
man, * oh, a rich man.’ It must be Paul. I know he’s 
rich, oh, I’m so glad.” She pulled from her apron 
another daisy and began again, ‘‘ he loves me, loves me 
not, loves me,” over and over, over and over. “ He 


20 


ONE SUMMER 


loves me! Oh, grandma, as the grandmother’s form 
appeared in the doorway, and she held up the head- 
less daisies. It’s Paul, and he loves me.” 

‘^Why, Pansy, out in the damp grass and picking 
petals from the daisies ! There’ll be trouble in fairy- 
dom to-night,” and the white head shook warningly, 
mysteriously, dear, dear, to see all the white petals 
wasted — poor little fairies ! Well, well, come into the 
house and I’ll tell you about it.” 

Here was the promise of a story, a new one too, and it 
didn’t take long for this little Marguerite to scatter her 
daisies to the winds, rush into the house and draw her 
little chair close to the grandmother’s, for the promised 
story. It was a strange story, all about the daisy petals 
belonging to the fairy children who couldn’t hear to see 
them wasted and this was the reason — when the summer 
days were over and the cold autumn came, these little 
fays, in their filmy robes of bits of white clouds, would 
shiver and die with cold, were it not that during the 
warm nights when all the world was asleep they would 
slip to the fields and meadows and gather the daisy 
petals. Their tiny arms full, away they would flit 
again, over the treetops and hills, through the dark 
glades and woodlands, up into the air and skimming 
the clouds until fairyland was reached. 

There the soft burdens were laid down and the fairy 
Queen, gathering the fay children about her, would 
teach them to make robes of the daisy petals and line 
them with bits of the fleecy clouds, so that when the 
cold weather came and Jack Prost charmed the trees 
to a silver thaw — ‘‘ they might dance among them 
warm and merry as ever.” But little one,” the grand- 
mother had ended, I have heard that sometimes when 
the fay children come in the night they find only head- 
less daisies, and when they go back the Queen mother is 
very angry at the heedless earth-children, who, forget- 
ting that the tiny fairies may die of the cold, pick the 


ONE SUMMER 


21 


daisy petals for selfish pleasures; and it is said that 
sometimes in the night she sends her fays to cut big 
patches from the nightgowns of the careless children 
who picked the petals.” 

Then the grandmother had laughed, taken the dark 
head between her hands and kissed the very solemn 
mouth. Shortly afterward she had told the little girl 
it was bed time, and Pansy had taken a candle and gone 
to her room. She went to bed as her grandmother had 
bade her, but full of the story, she could not sleep, so 
at last she had slipped out of bed and stepped to the 
window and leaned out, there to watch every cloud as 
it floated by and see if the daisy story were true. 

It was a glorious night. At last the fog had lifted, 
the stars shone bright, and the great round moon — 
which at first only peeped, — came right out from behind 
the fleecy clouds, and still the dreamy, brown eyes gazed 
at the sky in rapt attention. 

At last the air became chilly so Pansy threw a warm 
shawl over the white nightgown, and drawing up her 
little chair closer to the window, again set up her watch. 

She was beginning to feel a little drowsy when she 
seemed to hear approaching from a distance, and ever 
nearer and nearer, a soft rustling sound. It drew still 
nearer, then suddenly surrounded her — perfect clouds 
of daisy petals ! while pla3fing amongst it guarding and 
keeping it from straying were myriads of tiny fays. 

Pansy gave a delighted little laugh, and held out her 
hands. It was the fairy children carrying their burdens 
to the fairy Queen ! Oh, how she wanted to go, too ! it 
was all so lovely, and almost before she knew what had 
happened she found herself sitting in the midst of this 
cloudland with fairies flitting about and smiling at her 
from every corner, while a soft wind seemed to carry 
them on. 

Oh, how she screamed and laughed! and when the 
moon-beams danced in her black hair, how the fairies in 


'22 


PNE SUMMER 


turn capered and clapped their tiny hands ! Surely the 
like had never been before. 

Along the silent shore they went, past the white 
summer cottage — ^where Pansy caught one glimpse of 
a golden head, as it turned restlessly in its dreams, as 
the fairy train went by. ^Tiat, asleep on such a night ! 
Oh, Paul, Paul, you’ll hear a story to-morrow! Then 
up and away from the shore, over the bank, and Fundy 
was a thing of the past. Next through the long town 
street, and Pansy ceased laughing long enough to won- 
der why it was that all the people were not at the win- 
dows to see. 

Out into the country now, over the fragrant 
meadows, through the glades and woodlands. Then 
aw’-ay over the treetops and hills, up in the air — 
clutching handfuls of clouds in their glee. Up 1 Up ! 
until in the distance were tiny flickering lights — fire- 
flies dancing. Pansy thought. She could not see far 
for the moon was under a cloud, but they seemed to be 
moving slower and slower. Then the moon came out 
again and not knowing how it happened Pansy found 
herself in the most beautiful fairyland. The air was 
sweet with the perfume of violets and roses, and on a 
bank, green and smooth as velvet, stood a palace that 
glittered like a great diamond. Up the little path that 
led to it went Pansy, guided by the myriads of dancing 
fairies, and there at the door in gorgeous shimmering 
robes, but with anxious eyes, stood the Fairy Queen — 
Pansy knew her by the tiny glistening crown and 
Queenly air — but when she saw the fairies flitting 
proudly up with their precious burdens she smiled 
gladly, and gathering them about her, bade them at 
once set to work and make their robes. 

It was a wonderful sight to see the strange little 
elves working away with might and main at the daisy 
petal robes, and to hear the tiny screams of laughter 
when a petal or a bit of cloud would blow away, and 


ONE SUMMER 


23 

see two or three laughing fairies scampering after it. 
It was an ideal glimpse of fairyland. 

Pansy stood entranced with wide open eyes, when 
suddenly the fairy Queen turned to look at her, and her 
face grew stern as she said, I have been sad and 
anxious many, many times because my fairy children 
could find no daisy petals, all because of naughty little 
girls like you who pick them only to throw away again, 
you picked some only yesterday. Yes, you did /’ — and 
each word stood out by itself — as Pansy tried to mur- 
mur something about it being only a few “ and simply ” 
— her voice was full of scorn, so full, that Pansy hung 
her head guiltily — ‘‘ to find out if a silly little boy loved 
you — love is all nonsense for little girls and boys. So 
now as a punishment and to keep me from worrying 
over some day finding my little ones frozen to death, my 
fays shall cut off the sleeves of your white nightgown to 
cut into robes.” 

At this Pansy became very frightened and as she saw 
the fays coming toward her with tiny gleaming shears, 
she folded her arms tight and ran screaming down the 
path; but beyond it, all was dark — and she did not 
know the way. She screamed again — when, Pansy, 
why Pansy, whatever is the matter?” awoke her, and 
she saw her grandmother with startled face coming to- 
ward her. She rubbed her sleepy eyes, it was all so 
strange and as she felt herself being laid down in her 
own small bed she drowsily muttered something about 
it all being true grandma, ’bout the fairies and the 
daisy pet — hut here she fell sound asleep again and the 
grandmother walked softly out, murmuring, ^‘well, 
well, what a child it is to be sure ! ” 

But it was many a day before Pansy could be coaxed 
to pick a daisy petal and try her fortune again. 


124 


ONE SUMMER 


CHAPTER V. 

PAUL AND PANSY GATHER DULSE. 

At last the fog had cleared and although the Nova 
Scotia sign was very plain again, the children took no 
notice of it at all, — why they simply couldn’t bear to, 
after that dreadful rainy week. 

The tide was coming in to-day and once again they 
played on the seashore, Paul and Pansy, while spread 
on the flat rocks where the sun shone hot and bright, 
were numberless leaves of dulse picked by them when 
the tide was out. Paul didn’t like it much yet — it 
tasted to him, he said, like salt rubber might. He 
couldn’t help but envy Pansy who every few minutes 
would leave the graveyard she was making in the sand, 
and running to the rocks would pick off the edges which 
the sun had dried first, and eat them with a plain 
relish. Would he ever feel like that? Of course it was 
the seashore again — he was only from an Inland city, 
had never been with a mermaid or a daisy petal fairy 
— for of course he had been told this most wonderful 
story, — so could not expect to have a seashore appetite. 

It was pretty late in the summer. In fact the holidays 
were about over. Paul was not going home though, 
not for four whole weeks, but to-morrow Pansy must go 
to school again; and while in the midst of their play 
they would sometimes stop and talk about that, and 
wonder how Paul would put in his time during the long 
day before school was out. Suddenly Pansy jumped up, 
clapping her hands and upsetting three gravestones in 
her rush. I know, Paul, I know, you’ll go to school 
with me. Oh, what fun!” Paul wasn’t quite sure 
whether he would like that or not, but after he had sat 


ONE SUMMER 25 

down, knitted his forehead and thought it over for 
awhile, he said he would ask his mother. 

He wasn’t very fond of school and it seemed hardly 
the thing to go when he didn’t have to, but then he had 
never had Pansy with him before. If he went they 
would be together all day long as usual. Perhaps, it 
was the best thing after all. So it was planned with 
much chattering and laughing that the mother being 
willing they should go to school together next day. 

By the time it was talked over and quite settled the 
sun was getting low and the dulse was dry. Paul was 
.very anxious to show his mother this strange seaweed 
and ask her about the new school plan ; so the dulse was 
gathered up, and when Pansy’s deft brown fingers had 
made it up into two bundles, she put one under Paul’s 
arm, then taking the other under her own they bade 
one another good-bye and trotted home. 


26 


ONE SUMMER 


CHAPTER VI. 

A DAY AT THE SEASHORE SCHOOL-HOUSE. 

It was rather cloudy, but not a bad day at all, as the 
next morning the two children went gleefully along the 
road to the school-house — the funniest, battered up, 
dingiest little school-house Paul had ever seen, and the 
very straightest and most goggle-eyed old maid for a 
teacher that you can imagine. She called Paul up and 
asked him his name, and his answer was so faint — for 
she never once took the terrible goggles from his face — ■ 
that she made him say it over three times — ^before she 
heard aright. It was a bad beginning! Then she 
showed him to a seat, which he was glad to find was 
almost opposite Pansy’s. 

Paul felt very lonely as the time went on, he wished 
he had not come, then he looked across at his one friend, 
she happened to be looking and smiled so beautifully 
that in the very gladness of his heart he drew a piece of 
paper from the bottom of his never failing pocket, and 
wrote her a little letter ; — ‘‘ Dear Pansy, i’m oful lonly 
and if i coodent see you i’d wisht i was Horn, won’t you 
be glad wen skool is out. With love Paul.” Unlucky 
note I 

There was some pretty hard work trying to get it 
across the aisle without anyone seeing, but at last 
it was safely over, and Pansy had read it and smiled 
again at him. 

A few minutes later when Paul was working away 
blotting and re-blotting his copy book with his inky 
fingers, and pen, — where more ink had gone up than 


ONE SUMMER 


27 


down — ^he heard a little rustling sound near him, and 
looking up saw Pansy bending over, and in one hand was 
a ruler, with which she was sliding slowly, carefully, 
along the floor towards him, a tiny note. 

Paul gave a hasty glance at the teacher, awful ogre 
of childhood ! but she was busy at her desk, and Pansy, 
too, stopped very often to give a careful look, but truly 
it seemed that for once all would go well, the teacher 
seemed so far above noticing the precious trifle that 
was being slid so stealthily along that generous floor. 
Yes, the fates were kind, it was coming nearer and 
nearer! Paul was bending down to clutch it! His 
hand was on it — when the most dreadful thing hap- 
pened ! Pansy, too near the edge of her seat in her ex- 
citement, fell plump on the floor! Both looked up in 
time to see the goggles, which now looked like full 

moons, gazing at them " Bring up that note to 

nie.^’ Paul looked into Pansy’s frightened face and 
then and there made up his mind he would not 

Bring up that note at once.” My, her voice sounded 
so firm and terrible ! Paul’s very knees shook as he 
quivered out, I can’t please.” Can’t ? Do you hear 
me? At Once.” That at once seemed to fill the whole 
room. “ I shall not ask you again.” Paul very much 
hoped she wouldn’t, and she didn’t, but the next minute 
he found himsef in the entry and tingling all over 
from the little sapling which the teacher kept there, 
awaiting such times as this. 

He didn’t cry, though, and still firmly held the note, 
when suddenly, before his rather misty eyes, came the 
little frightened, pleading face of Pansy, and a tearful 
voice said, Don’t, teacher, please, I wrote the note, 
he’ll give it to me.” The teacher stopped the blows, and 
the little note was put into the small hand stretched out 
for it, and then passed to the teacher. She put it into 
her pocket and after giving three not very hard slaps 
on each tiny brown palm — in spite of Paul’s pleadings 


28 


ONE SUMMER 


not to, because the note was only an answer to one 
had written first — both were sent back into the school- 
room. 

But what happened next was the worst of all — truly 
it was a lesson for naughty school-children for all time, 
' — and PauFs blue eyes flashed as he saw the teacher 
quietly take from her pocket the note — his note — and 
read it, first to herself — then — ^horrors! out it came, 
aloud to everybody. “ Deer Paul, Fm oful sory you are 
lonly, but i lov you and it will soon be aftur skool then 
we can go to the seashore, Fm glad you cum. Pansy.” 

“ Quite flattering,” slowly remarked the teacher, then 
folding the note, to every scholar’s surprise she marched 
it straight down to Paul who took it quickly, with burn- 
ing cheeks, and put it in his pocket. 

The whole school was giggling now, but one stare 
from the goggles and all was quiet. 

Paul glanced at Pansy, her cheeks were very red. 
She did not look up. Soon the school-bell rang, and it 
was over. 

It was PauFs first day at the seashore school, and it 
was his last. It had not been a success. No, indeed! 
He had got not only himself, but Pansy into trouble. 
The school part of it was far better in the Great Inland 
city. 


ONE SUMMER 


29 


PART I. 

CHAPTER VII. 

ANOTHER VISIT TO THE TUMBLEDOWN COTTAGE. 

It hadn’t stayed fine long, for the wind had, as the 
fishermen said, “backed in” so it was no wonder that 
on Saturday it was cold and cloudy again — not to men- 
tion the fog-horn which once more began blowing out 
fog ; but that was such an old story now. — 

However Paul decided that there was nothing to com- 
plain about this time, because hadn’t he been invited 
to spend the whole, long afternoon and take tea with 
Pansy and her grandmother ? Indeed, he had, and who 
cared if it wasn’t a real seashore day ! Wasn’t an after- 
noon in the “ tumbledown cottage ” as good, and better 
for a change, than even watching for mermaids? I 
should think so ! and besides the grandmother had prom- 
ised to show him some old-fashioned things, and tell an 
old day story. 

He was less shy this time, so there was no hanging 
around the edge of the wet rocks, and pretty soon the 
happy three were again settled cosily, close to the blaz- 
ing fire. From the crane hung a pot of molasses candy 
and my, how good it smelled ! It was enough to make 
anyone feel cheerful and draw long breaths. 

While the candy was boiling, it was decided — all 
being in favor of it — that the story would be the first 
thing on the programme, and, as it was clearly not a 
seashore day, that it would not be a seashore story; 
so grandmother said it would be about a little girl 


30 ONE SUMMER 

named Eunice— her mother and Pansy’s great-grand- 
mother. 

This little girl had, many, many years before, been 
lost on a big marsh one Christmas Eve — the very name 
of which sent pleasant thrills down the children’s backs, 
although it must have been dreadful to have been lost at 
such a time, and all talked about that for a little while. 
But presently grandmother took otf her spectacles, and 
taking up her knitting leaned back comfortably, which 
was a sign that she was ready to begin, so the chattering 
ceased. 

First she told them about the big Tantramar marshes, 
which stretch for miles over the borders of New Bruns- 
wick and Nova Scotia, and about the rich marsh hay 
that grew there ; of the great tides, and wild winds, and 
how, when the white men first began to settle in New 
Brunswick these marshes were little known about, and 
were very dangerous. One might walk for miles and 
miles and still find no house, and where the marshes did 
end great forests commenced, and stretched away as 
far as one could think, on every side. 

And in winter when big snow storms blew and 
blustered, the fierce gusts of wind would make great 
snow-drifts, and then the marshes were bleaker and 
more dangerous than ever — and children, this little 
girl, and others too, were lost in just such a storm as 
this,” here the little ones drew up closer to the fire and 
felt good. 

“ Well, one summer nearly a hundred years ago, there 
came to settle on the borders of this marsh, a number 
of Englishmen, their wives and children. Among them 
was my grandfather, grandmother and little Eunice, 
twelve years old — a brave girl too, as I think you will 
see. 

*'The house they lived in was not nearly as good as 
even this, for it was built of rough logs and the cracks 
were stuffed with mud and moss. There was a big fire- 


ONE SUMMER 


31 


place built in the living room and twice or three times 
a week grandfather would have to go out and cut a big 
back log — which everybody had then — it ,was as long 
as the fireplace and very large, so that it would not burn 
up quickly, and there was usually a forelog too.” The 
children were interested in this, so she showed them 
how they laid the logs in, and told them all about it, 
“ and this big fire had to be kept going day and night 
in the winter, for the new country was very cold to the 
strangers. 

The next house to grandfather’s was nearly a mile 
and a half away and was owned by a settler who had a 
boy named Seth — a little older than Eunice, but her 
great friend; and every morning on his way to school 
he would call for his little companion and they would 
walk the other mile together. 

It was very hard to get a teacher for the tiny, out of 
the way, log school-house, so the old man who came 
didn’t know much beyond the three R’s ‘ Eeadin’ 
Ritin’ and ’Rithmetic,’ ” — ^here grandmother laughed, 
but I’m much afraid the children didn’t see anything 
wrong — ‘‘but he did his best and the scholars learned 
a little which was better than being idle, dears, wasn’t 
it? 

“ Through the long, warm summer this walk to and 
from the school-house was very pleasant; for the marsh 
flowers were beautiful, and Eunice and Seth would 
pick great bunches of the blue flag lilies to brighten up 
the dingy school-house. 

“ But at last the summer faded away, the woods were 
red and gold, then the leaves fell, the marshes became 
bleak and brown, and it grew cold. Food and wood 
were stored away, and very soon they were right in the 
midst of an old-fashioned Canadian winter. 

“ There was no more lingering by the road-side for 
flowers, but still Seth and Eunice, well bundled up, went 
to school each day, sometimes wading through snow- 


32 


ONE SUMMER 


drifts up to their waists. The old teacher went every 
day too ; and usually eight or ten boys and girls. 

“ This winter, the first one, was a very hard one for 
the settlers, and it kept the men and boys busy, all the 
spare time, shoveling away the snow to keep the houses 
from being quite covered up. 

“ Sometimes for two or three days at a time notliing 
could be seen but what looked like big snow clouds float- 
ing everywhere, and the days were very dismal indeed,” 
— and didn’t they ever have any fun grandmother ? ” 
queried Pansy’s pitying voice. Oh yes, dear, now and 
then when the road would be trampled a little the 
families used to make each other visits, and two or 
three times — there were quilting parties for the women, 
and the children played together trying to read the pic- 
ture books Jack Frost had made on the little windows, 
and having all kinds of good times; and sometimes, 
there were candy pulls,” — which word put them all in 
mind of the molasses candy, and not any too soon, for 
when grandmother dropped a spoonful of it in water, it 
clinked beautifully, so she poured it out on a big blue 
and white platter and set it away in the porch to cool. 
Then the story went on. “ Yes, and when it was time 
to go home there was the big urn of hot tea brought in — 
not always tea like you and I know about, but made 
from a kind of shrub called Labrador, and even from 
hemlock bark. These things had ,to be used when the 
tea gave out. I will show you grandmother’s urn after- 
ward. You will think it very funny. 

Well, the winter passed on and one morning late in 
December little Eunice awoke to find the sun shining 
bright and warm, and although the drifts looked pretty 
high, for it had been snowing and blowing all night, she 
felt glad. At last it seemed that there was a promise 
of milder weather, so singing a little song she dressed 
quickly and ran down the loft stairs to put a fresh log 
on the fire, and get breakfast. 


ONE SUMMER 


33 


^'The minutes flew quickly, and hardly had she 
cleared away the dishes when a loud rap was heard at 
the door, and a cheery voice called out, Hurry 
Eunice ! ” but she would not budge until Seth had come 
in and got well warmed before the fire, then hand in 
hand they set off together on their long, hard walk 
through the snow drifts. 

“ When the school-house was reached they were a little 
late, so a splendid fire was blazing and the room was 
already pretty comfortable. 

Books were brought out and lessons began. Every- 
thing went on just as usual until about three o’clock, 
then the wind came up, and soon it was a perfect gale, 
and the snow was falling heavily. 

The teacher saw that the storm was growing worse 
every minute so he told the scholars to wrap up warmly, 
and they would start for home, but as soon as the door 
was opened such a blast met them that they had to go 
back into the school-room again. Here they sat for a 
few minutes, the younger children crying and sobbing, 
then the old teacher said, ^ There is no use, we cannot 
stay here, the fire is almost out, there is no more wood 
in, and none near. It will soon be too bad to walk at 
all and if we stay we must freeze to death. We must 
try again.’ It was Eunice who thought of the plan of 
tying them together, but when the only rope there, was 
brought forward, it was found to be so short that in- 
stead of around the waists, it was put around the wrists, 
then again the door was opened. This time in spite of 
the awful gust, the little procession forced its way out. 
Seth at the head and the teacher at the end, and they 
started off in the direction of Eunice’s home — as they 
thought. 

" They could not speak for the wind, the snow blinded 
their eyes, and the drifts were terrible. Now and then 
a little girl whose short legs tired quickly and could not 
wade the big drifts, would stumble and cry, then there 
would have to be a stop. 


34 


ONE SUMMER 


“ Well, at the end of an hour they seemed as far off as 
ever, so at last the older ones began to feel that they 
must be lost. Seth stopped, and all the little band 
stopped too and huddled together. Ten had started 
from the school-house, were all there? It was Eunice 
who first thought of this too, and counted, nine ! 
who was missing? and as she peered into the frightened 
faces, dimmer than ever now, for the darkness was com- 
ing on early, she found it to be the old teacher. Poor 
old man, the rope must have loosened, he had fallen 
down and weak from cold had probably fainted. 

Then to add to the trouble the tiny girl who fell so 
often began to scream and cry in such a way that there 
was no use in dragging her along any further. There 
was only one thing to do, carry the child for awhile, so 
Seth took the little one in his arms and telling the 
others to keep tight hold they went back in search of the 
teacher, who might still be alive. 

Suddenly there was a quick pull at the rope, Seth 
had fallen over a snow-covered stump. The little girl 
was thrown from his arms unhurt, but when he tried to 
rise he found he could not lift his right leg.” “ Dear, 
oh dear, grandmother, such tribelations ! ” broke in 
Pansy’s anxious voice. Yes, indeed. Well the other 
boys were quite small and Eunice was the eldest girl, so 
she bravely said she would go for help, at least try. 
Seth told her no, she must not go alone, and tried to get 
up, but she made him lie still and telling the others not 
to leave the spot, but to huddle together and try and 
keep warm, she hurried off. 

“ The snowfall was much lighter now which gave her 
more heart, but she walked and walked until she was al- 
most sure they must all die in the dreadful snow. 

‘‘ It was quite dark now and had been for some time, 
the snow had about stopped and the air was clear. She 
shaded her eyes with her hands and looked around. 
Away in the distance she thought she saw a gleam of 


ONE SUMMER 


35 


light, a gleam so small and so dim she Avas afraid she 
must be mistaken and hardly daring to take her eyes 
from it, as she hurried on. But when she came nearer it, 
it grew brighter, and when she came up to it she found it 
to be — guess ! ” her own house,” laughed Pansy, which 
Paul echoed, then clapping her hands, and taking one 
of her quick spells ” as grandmother called them, she 
took Paul by both hands, and slipping her brown fingers 
under his, made him whirl around in the mazy “ stiff 
starch” until for dizziness’ sake they sat down feeling 
the home-coming of little great-grandmother Eunice 
well celebrated. 

‘‘ Now children, quiet a little longer, if you want the 
rest of the story. You may be sure that Eunice was wild 
with Joy when she found herself home, and of course you 
know how they greeted her, how the neighbors flew 
around and were so excited they didn’t see she was 
nearly fainting until her mother, wild with joy too, 
made them stop, and rushing for the big horn blew 
loud blasts, until answering blasts came from away in 
the distance, for of course all the men were out search- 
ing by this time. By the time the men arrived Eunice 
had told her story to the group of anxious mothers. It 
was quickly repeated to the men at the door, and off they 
ran in the way she pointed out, following her foot- 
steps as far as they were able, by the light of the lan- 
terns. But it was nearly an hour before their horn 
blasts, and “ hello’s ” were answered by the feeble calls, 
and soon they came across the heap of children all hud- 
dled together trying to keep warm; but some were 
pretty badly frozen, and all had to be carried. Yet the 
men were many and strong, and so thankful that the 
burdens were light. 

“When all were home and safe the next thing was 
to look for the teacher, — two had stayed behind already 
for that purpose, and before the rest had Joined them, 
he was found, but frozen to death.” 


ONE SUMMER 


36 

wouldn’t be s’prised if the wicked snow fairies 
had undid his wrist and spirited him off,” suggested 
Pansy, and Paul said he thought it was quite likely, for 
all fairies seemed to do cruel things at times like the 
mermaid with the Earth-child, and the daisy petal fairy 
with herself. 

Well, dears, we are near the end now. Seth was the 
only one who was really sick long. You see his leg was 
broken, and the last big storm of winter had almost 
melted before he was able to put his foot on the ground 
again, but by the time summer came he and his brave 
little friend were as merry as ever, and again picked 
their blue flag lilies. 

So a great many years passed by, and one day in 
the autumn when the marsh was as brown as a hazel 
nut they were married, and many a night when the 
wind howled, and the snow rushed here and there look- 
ing for a nice place for a big snowdrift, they would sit 
around their open fire and tell to their little children — 
and I was one — the story of which we never tired, of the 
terrible day they were almost lost in the snow storm on 
the bleak Tantramar marsh. 

And now, said grandmother we must have an early 
supper then there will be a long evening, and we shall 
spend part of it in the attic looking at the old things.” 

So the cosy supper was prepared and nearly an hour 
spent at the table, so you may know how good it was. 
^^flien the blue and white china was washed, and 
polished unitl it shone, as Paul said, as bright as a 
nigger’s eye” and had been carefully laid upon the 
shelves again, the children got very restless waiting for 
grandmother to finish her other little duties and begin 
the evening’s programme. 


ONE SUMMER 


3Z 


PART II. 

CHAPTER VTII. 

IN THE ATTIC. 

At last all was ready, so lamp in hand, she mounted 
the steep attic steps, — a golden head on one side of her, 
a black head on the other — at least that was the way 
they started. But it was of no use, the steps were pain- 
fully narrow. So it ended in them going up Indian file. 

Such a funny little attic, so dingy and so brown, but 
a treasure land nevertheless, and there was a wonderful 
charm about it to the children. 

The lamp was set down in a safe place, then, out 
from a dark cobwebby corner under the shaky rafters 
grandmother drew the big battered copper urn — the 
queerest looking thing you ever heard about, for the 
tea, or coffee if you pleased, was heated in the strangest 
way. First there was a bar of iron, with a handle, and 
at the bottom of it was a quite large square of iron, 
which was supposed to be heated red hot, then it was put 
into a little box-like protector, made for it, in the mid- 
dle of the urn. The tea, or coffee, and water, were put 
in the um next, and this red-hot iron square did the 
heating. It could be heated so hot as to boil coffee. 

After this had been talked about and looked at from 
all sides, a big brown leather-covered chest was pushed 
out from the wall, and grandmother tenderly drew out 
the contents. Such dresses ! — worn by her great-grand- 
mother in England, one hundred and fifty years ago. 
There was the most beautiful cream satin with butter- 
flies worked all over it. Pansy was allowed to roll up 
her sleeves and put it on, for this dress had no sleeves — 


38 


ONE SUMMER 


only tiny puffs on the shoulders, and the waist was so 
short, and the skirt so full, that when she had it ony 
and also the white silk stockings, and slippers with high 
heels and pointed toes, she looked just exactly like some 
little, old-fashioned picture. 

Paul admired her so greatly that his eyes were per- 
fect wonder points, and he had hard work to take them 
from her, to look at the other things; but there was a 
great laugh when grandmother picked out a gorgeous 
blue silk with sleeves that flowed out wide at the wrists, 
like a Chinaman’s, and a three-cornered shawl of silk 
too, and put them on Paul. Then it was Pansy’s turn 
to admire, for with his fair skin and golden curls he 
made as fine a girl as he did a boy; so taking hold of 
hands the two went strutting up and down the little 
old garret until grandmother, seated on the box near 
the chest, went so far back into the past, and was so 
quiet, that the children were afraid she was dropping 
asleep, and stopped their antics, to coax her to take out 
and show them more. 

This she did, all kinds of lovely clothes, until the 
dusky attic looked almost a fairyland, and was full of 
the spirits of the past. 

And there was a beautiful odd-shaped work-box, that 
had also come out from England long ago. In it were 
tiny silver thimbles, and needle-books full of the finest 
needles; and pieces of the daintiest embroidery. But 
the most interesting thing in the box was a walnut shell 
which, ^andmother said, when she had first opened it, 
had inside of it a pair of gentlemen’s ball-room gloves. 
Just think of it! — gloves so fine and rolled so small 
that they were put into a walnut shell. 

The gloves were there too, and very delicate and 
dainty they looked. The children touched them lightly 
with the very tips of their fingers. Grandmother had 
never attempted to roll them up again. Pansy whis- 
pered to Paul that she didn’t believe anyone but a fairy 


ONE SUMMER 


39 


had done it anyway. — That she had heard that fairies 
sometimes used walnut shells for coaches, like Cin- 
derella’s godmother did, and very likely some man had 
been bad and a fairy had ridden away, with his gloves 
in her walnut shell coach. 

So the minutes, and in fact two hours flew quickly 
by, and when everything had been admired and talked 
over, and carefuly put back, they trooped down the 
narrow stairs again, and grandmother brought out some 
old daguerreotypes, and the primmest little children 
were in them — little boys in long baggy trousers, whose 
mothers had certainly cut their hair; and little girls 
with hair parted in the middle, and the most precise 
row of curls the whole way round their heads. And such 
short waists, and full skirts, and pantalettes ! 

Bless me but Fm just aching for a piece of candy,” 
said grandmother. The candy — why sure enough! — 
Everyone else was of course, so it was cracked and 
brought in on the big white platter, and while they ate 
grandmother told them about lots of funny little things 
that happened long ago. One story which amused them 
greatly was how one time a schooner had anchored near 
a little fishing village on the Bay, and the captain com- 
ing ashore had gone up to a farmhouse to buy a goose, 
if possible. But the captain not willing to give as 
much money as the farmer wanted, had to return empty- 
handed. Next morning when farmer Wright went out 
to his farmyard there strutted past him a stately gander, 
and from his neck dangled two pennys and a bit of 
paper on which was written: 

“ Now, Mr. Wright, I must say good-night 
For I am going to wander. 

I’ve bought two geese for a penny apiece 
And left the pay with the gander.” 

True enough the two geese were gone, and for that 


40 


ONE SUMMER 


matter so was the schooner. Both Paul and Pansy said 
it served the farmer just right, and was a good joke 
besides. 

“And now please tell us another story,” pleaded 
Pansy, “only one more.” There came a twinkle into 
grandmother’s eye. “ No, no, not that one,” drawled 
Pansy with knitted brows but merry mouth, “not the 
story ’bout — 

“ Yes dear, about Jack and his glory. 

And now my story’s begun. 

I’ll tell you another about Jack and his brother. 
And now my story’s done.” 

Everybody laughed, and while they laughed the clock 
struck nine. It had hardly stopped when there came 
a loud knock at the door, and a man inquired for mas- 
ter Paul, so that ended it — the pleasant visit was over. 


PNE SUMMER 


41 


CHAPTER IX. 

PAULAS LAST SEASHORE DAY. 

"But the seashore part of iPs all right, isn’t it, 
Paul? — it isn’t too hot and it isn’t too cold, but it’s 
just right like the little bear’s porridge in the Three 
Bears,” said Pansy in a voice that tried to be merry. 
Then there was a pause, it was all pauses to-day. 

Pansy was right. It was autumn at last, that was 
plain. The leaves, the only things that the salt-eaten 
apple tree in the toppling over orchard ever bore, had 
fallen, and blown away, the dear knows where, and the 
scanty green grass on the bank had turned brown and 
was more scanty still, if such a thing were possible. 
There was an unusual briskness in the air, and a chill 
from the water which took away all desire to go to the 
mermaids. 

Yes, it was even shown in the dress of the children, 
for over the patched gingham was a warm cape, and 
instead of the starched blouse was a warm sailor suit. 

The signs of fall were ever3rwhere and in everything, 
but the day was beautiful. 

Yes, the seashore part of it was all right, but there 
was another part of it all wrong, that was sure. 

They sat on the flat rock where they always sat to 
watch the tide come in — the rock they had sat on when 
they had first become acquainted — and both with hands 
crossed over their knees, and looking at the long white 
arms in the distance. TJgh ! how cold they looked ! 

It would be a long, long time before Paul would 
watch for the mermaids again. To-morrow he was 
going back to the Great Inland city, and that was the 
part that wasn’t all right. 


42 


pNE SUMMER 


^^ril come back next summer, Pansy, mamma says 
so,’’ then there was another long pause, so Paul went 
on thinking. Dear me, the long Saturdays when he 
would think of the seashore, and Pansy, all alone, 
printing her name on the brown sands with a stick — 
There was her name now, and his right below it, each 
with a white pebble after it for a full stop — ^he would 
think how they used to sit on the rocks and watch the 
tide come in, until the wave they were looking for 
rushed up in a great glee and blotted out the names. 
He wished that summers didn’t end so soon — ^he hated 
to go away. 

But winter! winter here? — Oh no — ^how bleak and 
lonely it would be ! — and Pansy had said the water never 
froze but rushed on the same as ever, only so cold; 
and that there were dreadful storms, and winds, that 
when the waves broke on the rocks, caught the spray 
and tossed it over the lighthouse, and sometimes ship- 
wrecks — frightful ship-wrecks in the winter ! How 
poor and small the tumbledown cottage must look at 
such times ! — its roof white and the snow-patched rocks 
all around — He knew what it would look like inside 
though, with its blazing fire, and the stories ! — ^But 
that could not be all the time — no he would rather 
spend the winter in the Great Inland city — far rather. 

It began to seem more pleasant to him; the more he 
thought about it — My how he always enjoyed the first 
snow storm there, and the hills, oh such hills ! — and a 
new toboggan just aching to slide down them, — and 
the carnivals. Indeed it was much merrier in the Great 
Inland city in winter — he was sure of that. If only 
Pansy could be there too. Poor Pansy ! What outdoor 
fun could she have on this desolate seashore? Yes, it 
must be terribly lonely. He would believe that, in spite 
of the fact she had told him it was not — so very, — ^that 
on silver thaw” days the frost sprites danced in the 
trees on the bank — those scrawny salt-eaten trees he had 


ONE SUMMER 


43 


always laughed at — she called such times her carni- 
val,” how little she knew about real carnivals! Of 
course the fairy dance must be beautiful, but it didn’t 
last long. Pansy had said so herself — that they were 
foolish little things, the frost sprites, and never knew 
enough to go away when the air became too warm, so 
it always ended in them melting into little drops of 
water which trickled from the trees like rain. Poor 
little elves ! 

It was getting near sunset, the tide had come in and 
swept out the names long ago. The children had left 
the flat rock — left it slowly — it was the last time for so 
long — for an old log high up on the shore — a sturdy old 
log that had stubbornly withstood many a big storm, 
though worn smooth in the battle. 

Paul thought it would be a comfort if they could cut 
their names in it, and when he came back next summer, 
there they would look and find them. This took a good 
half hour to do, for the knife was dull — though he did 

save time by making one P do for both. Thus, 

— ^besides it looked more friendly done in this way. 

When it was finished the sun had quite set, and the 
western sky was one great glow of crimson, which re- 
flected in the water a rosy pink. 

It certainly was time for Paul to go home, and Pansy 
too, but dear me, it was the last seashore sunset for 
so long. 

But when the crimson had become a purplish gray 
with quick dashes of red, and then a soft pink falling 
out of a light gray, so fluffy that one felt like saying 
good-bye to everything, and tumbling right into the 
fluff — then Paul slowly closed the knife he held in his 
hand and put it in his pocket. 

You see. Pansy, the sun has all set and I’ll have to 
go. I don’t want to though, not for a bit,” “ yes and 
grandmother’ll be waiting tea, so — well — good-bye.” 


44 


ONE SUMMER 


“ Good-bye, and Pansy,” — Paul paused and wrinkled bis 
forehead — “ Pansy, look — would you mind if I kissed 
you? — ^you see people mostly always do when they go 
away for so long,” — he hurried to explain. 

There was no reply to this, but Pansy laughed and 
crossed her hands back of her head then uncrossed them 
and crossed them again — at the same time slowly 
twisting her head from side to side in them, all of which 
was her habit when she felt a little shy! 

Paul hesitated for a moment. She looked as though 
she wouldn’t mind, that was sure, still girls were funny, 
but he could not wait longer so he gave her a kiss 
straight on the mouth, and both burst out laughing 
which was all there was to do. 

“ Good-bye, Pansy, till next summer,” “ good-bye, 
Paul, and don’t forget.” Then away they went, one 
up and one down the seashore, and turning, waving and 
calling out every minute, until the rocks and the dis- 
tance quite separated them. Then there was silence, 
and only one tiny star, just out, knew that in the still- 
ness a little girl crept back to the old log, which now 
seemed like a friend, and nestling her dark head down 
upon it had her cry out. 

Then out came another star and when Pansy looked 
up, having cried to her heart’s content, there were the 
two inquisitive eyes looking right down at her and laugh- 
ing, so she laughed too. “ What, crying? ” they seemed 
to say, “ you silly little girl, — run home, run home, run 
home, there’s a warm supper, and a story, and the best 
grandmother in the world all wondering where you are, 
and waiting in the tumbledown cottage — and next 
summer will be here before you know it, run home, run 
home.” 

" Why sure enough, sure enough,” murmured Pansy, 
and she was running then as fast as she could. “ I am 
silly, for it is only next summer after all.” 


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